Up, Up, and Away
by Cathaign
Summary: Hermione Granger, most brilliant mind in an age, goes in search of herself when she receives an invitation to work in Deep Space Radar Telemetry in Colorado Springs, Colorado. What surprises away her? AU Epilogue in Book 7, SGA: starting in Season 3
1. Chapter 1 through 4 Revised

**Up Up and Away**

**Fandom: Stargate/Harry Potter**

**Author: Cathaign**

**Character(s): Hermione, others **

**Publish Date: Feb 2010**

**Update Date: June 25 2010**

**Summary: Hermione Granger, brilliant but scary witch, goes to work with the Stargate program**

**Format: Snippets**

Table of Contents

**Chapter One**

Up, Up, and Away!  
Chapter 1: In Which Hermione is Asked to Fly  
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis and Harry Potter do not belong to me. They belong to their respective creators and companies who own them.  
Spoilers and differentiations: Spoilers to season 2 of SGA, and we're ignoring the seventh book and assuming that Snape was cleared of charges against him due to Dumbledore's death.  
Author: Cathaign/C.987- the first is my LJ name, where this is originally posted. The second is my ffnet name.

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It was an early morning, even for Hermione Granger, Research and Development grunt of new Arithmancy Uses and girl genius extraordinaire. The loud, angry screeching of her muggle alarm clock read 4:00 am. She hit the thing to shut it up several times before reaching the proper button, rolled over, and dozed.

Ten minutes later, the entire building heard a shout from flat 4D:

"Bloody Hell!"

A frizzy head with wild, glassy eyes popped up from under the mountain of covers, realizing why the alarm had been set for so early. Hermione Granger had a plane to catch to America.

She scurried out of bed, brushed her teeth, hopped in the shower and hopped out again ten minutes later, ran some frizz lessening serum through her hair before placing a drying charm on her head, and ran back into her bedroom to where two suitcases lay open and half-packed.

In there, she quickly threw on some clothes, blouse, waistcoat, and a long skirt with slim boots, and everything else she could into one bag, and in its twin began shrinking everything as she packed it, so a half hour later, she had condensed the contents of her flat into a single bag, aside from the bed, the appliances, and the kitchen sink. She rented those from the flat manager when she had moved in two years earlier.

By five, Hermione had called the cab company, arranged for a pick up, and waited outside her flat building in the light drizzle that she was born into nearly twenty-four years prior. While she waited, being half asleep still without her morning tea, she fell into deep thought. She'd miss Harry and Ron, and all the Weasleys, but, well, people moved on.

Ron married Lavender after Hermione went to university and began her internship with Professor Snape. Harry married Ginny just out of Hogwarts, which greatly vexed her about the younger girl. She had no way of providing for herself should Harry, an Auror, become injured or die in the line of duty. Of course, she kept her mouth shut on that point, knowing that Ginny's dream had always been to marry Harry.

She shook her head to clear away the gloomy thoughts just in time, for when the yellow cab pulled up, it was fifteen after five, leaving her very little time to get to the airport and her bags checked. She had thought about Apparating earlier that week when she received notice that the British and American Governments arranged her flight into Washington DC and later Colorado Springs, Colorado.

After Colorado, she would hopefully head out on the Atlantis expedition. She hoped she hadn't been too rash in accepting the offer.

Hermione, with luggage and magical creature in tow, arrived at the airport just in time to board her flight at six. As she stepped out of the cab and turned to grab her things, she looked out at the overcast sky. She smiled a little half-smile that didn't reach her eyes.

iGoodbye, England./i she thought.

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Okay, I know these are going to be short, if only because I was training to be a journalist before I came to my senses and saved what little sanity I have left. I am really and truly looking for some constructive criticism, and I'm just not getting that over on the other site. Pleas help a returning writer out here.

**Chapters 2 and 3**

Title: Up, Up, and Away: Part 2  
Rating: PG13  
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to quite a few people, probably most formidably MGM, Roland Emmerich, and Dean Devlin. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am abusing the characters because I'm procrastinating doing homework.

Let the editing begin! Here's edit one. More to come later.

Thank you all for the wonderful feedback on how to improve and continue, especially to my new BETA, the wonderful Innogen, and the following reviewers: AlecMcDowell, AllenPitt, AngusH, betrayal, bohica, chrysanne, Cordyfan, Difdi, DireSquirrel, dghardim, draconis, DrDamage, ElessarNett, EmergencySeventytwo, fanrei, FlipSideofMadness, Greywizard, Jonakhensu, jrabbit, Keshkreature, KzintiKiller,LeaFairy, Luna, MBB, MistofRainbows, Neverwillmini, RevDorothyL, Rod, Sandi, savingjuliet, Siggisab, stararisto, SusanAnthony, VillageOrchid, zafaran

After a long flight that made Hermione want to tear her hair out with her bare hands, the plane touched down in New York, and Hermione wondered (not for the first time) what she had been thinking when she'd accepted the General's offer to fly her in. Had she used her infamously sizable intellect, she could have declined and Apparated. Unfortunately, she hadn't, leading to a much greater hassle of shoving Crookshanks into a cat carrier as a carry on (disguised as actual luggage and masked with a quick disillusionment charm) and being stuck on a giant, flying death trap. She reaped what she sowed in this after ignoring her mentor's advice and going for days without sleep.

The mass of passengers started to shift ever so slightly forward, like a herd of cattle on their way to the slaughter. The rather large woman wearing the pink Mumu in 27E seemed to have wedged herself most precariously between the seats with her carry on bag.

Good, thought Hermione. She supposed that was a little vicious, even for her, but she rationalized that after a year under Umbridge in school, anyone wearing that particular shade of pink deserved whatever perverse punishment karma could come up with.

The line continued to inch forward, and Hermione clutched the carry on tightly to her. The large ball of fluff and claws hissed as two small, rambunctious children squeezed through and knocked the carrier.

"It's alright, Crooks," Hermione crooned. She pulled the muggle carrier closer to her and shielded the cantankerous feline from further physical disruptions. Said feline was somewhat quelled but nowhere near content with his situation.

Finally, Hermione and her cat could breathe when they exited the hull of the aircraft. The brunette checked the clock on the wall. She had two hours until she had to board her next flight.

Instead of waiting about in the terminal and forcing both herself and her half kneazle to succumb to the horrors of multiple security checks, Hermione took her cat (in his carrier, much to his dismay) and explored the Muggle, American airport. Crookshanks had barely been looked over by the… delightful… people in charge of Customs, thanks to the charms disguising his nature. Much as she disliked breaking the law, her abrupt departure from England left no time to vaccinate her pet the Muggle way, much less book him a space in the cargo area on the flight.

Crookshanks hissed from his confines again. The ride and subsequent rough handling in the disembarking of the plane made him cranky.

The sheer loudness of the airport jarred her, just as it had the first time around. The air never cleared of noise; there existed a constant hum of reunions, departures, separations, arguments, laughter, and tears. It reminded her of her early days at Hogwarts, waiting anxiously with her parents at Platform 9 ¾. She shook off those thoughts. Now was not the time to reminisce about things she'd miss during her time away.

When she saw the sign above her head, she let out a startled laugh. Her feet, without the aid of her ever-working brain, had led her directly to her terminal's bookstore.

"Well Crooks," she chuckled at the plastic carrier and its passenger, "at least some things never change."

With that, she hauled her carry on and cat into the store and perused through the books she had never read. Outside of school work and research, she used to be found at meetings and jobs and at the Weasleys. So many hectic things to do daily, especially dealing with Mrs. Weasley's attempts to marry her off, had kept her from exploring Muggle fiction beyond the classics. Thus, she examined each cover and blurb carefully, enjoying the way the books smelled as she opened them, and the way the pages slid through her hands.

In times of such rapid technological advancement, she took comfort in the familiarity of her old friends. She picked one, a mystery, that she felt would hold her attention for the duration of the final leg of her destination.

Hermione sighed. She knew Molly meant well. After all, her own parents were not a part of the Wizarding World, and unaccustomed to the... somewhat antiquated lifestyle that still prevailed, especially when it came to women's rights and her rights as a Muggleborn witch.

With half an hour left to go, Hermione gathered up her things and headed to the dreaded airport security where she was prodded, pulled from line, and picked on by overzealous guards. Crookshanks hissed from his carrier.

Finally, they managed to shove their way onto the plane and hunkered down for the remainder of their journey.

Meanwhile, in Colorado, deep underneath an abandoned missile silo, General Jack O'Neill, two "L"s, mind you, sat in one of Gerneral Landry's more comfy chair and contemplated.

The British Prime Minister was sending him a civilian researcher for Atlantis. He didn't quite understand why the researcher was necessary this late in the game on Atlantis, but Britain had threatened to pull out of the project if she was not allowed to join.

This put the Stargate program in a pickle. He and General Landry agreed that allowing an unknown variable into the equation surely spelled disaster, if not in the fatal or injurious kind, than in the morale and trust built by those already serving the program.

He ran a hand through salt and pepper hair and winced as some of his shiny bars denoting his rank poked him through the material of his shirt.

He was old.

The door burst open, revealing one Vala Mal Doran, pouting, followed by a more sedate General Landry.

A new recruit would not have guessed that this pigtailed pouter was once one of the greatest intergalactic thieves ever to be possessed by the Goa'uld. Well, a thief and con artist.

"Who's going to Atlantis?" she demanded.

"I already told you, Vala, it is not Dr. Jackson," said General Landry

"Well, who else could it be? None of the new scientists can go yet; they have not completed the gene therapy, and the ones that have completed gene therapy are still learning the language the Ancients wrote in."

The two generals looked at each other and sighed.

General Landry took over. "We know, Vala. There's a new scientist being sent over from England. Apparently, she's smart, and a fast learner. The head of the British government asked that she be allowed to join the program, and so we're bringing her in on a proviso basis. If she doesn't work out before she gets shipped off, we can send her home."

Chapter 3

For once, the Cheyenne Mountain Complex was quiet. No chevron alarms clanged, no hostile invaders attempted to break through the Stargate. The only noise was that which the scientists had made earlier in the morning about Vala Mal Doran.

General Landry liked quiet days, especially when new researchers came on board. He wasn't sure why the British Ministry was so adamant to have this kid on an Atlantis team, but seeing as how the Prime Minister had all but told the President to take her or lose British support, he wasn't going to question orders too much. So there he sat, behind his imposing desk, waiting for some young hot shot with degrees in several fields of chemistry, dead languages, and applied mathematics. For all her different degrees, her personnel file showed an alarming lack of experience in the field. It was odd for a student to graduate with little field experience or experiments.

That wasn't to say her dissertations were anything less than exemplary. General Landry had skimmed through the abstracts, and had several scientists read over her work to predetermine one Hermione Granger's qualifications.

He sent up a quick prayer that this scientist didn't end up injured like all of his others. The medical supply bills gave him heart palpitations already. Add in one more trouble magnet scientist, and he might have a heart attack.

The General was awakened from his wool gathering session by a knock at the door.

"Come," he said, trying to appear less distracted than he felt.

The door opened, revealing one of his airmen carrying- a cat carrier? The poor man attempted to stand at attention even with the obviously heavy baggage weighing down one side.

"Sir, Hermione Granger, Sir." The airman saluted awkwardly.

Landry peered around the airman curiously, only able to glimpse flyaway curls just barely peaking over the airman's shoulder. Then the airman-Landry didn't know him by name yet- stepped aside to allow the mystery wunderkind inside.

She was tiny.

No, seriously. She was tiny. Possibly needed a double bacon cheeseburger for every meal. Landry was seriously beginning to doubt the British Prime Minister's sanity. She could get knocked over by a gust of wind, and her eyes had shadows of rings under them, like she didn't sleep often.

She nodded to the airman, and as an aside asked him to put the cat down. "Crooks really hates the carrier, and he seems to be in a foul mood already. I just don't want your hands where he can reach them."

He looked down to the carrier she gestured at. Inside sat a large, orange, hissing thing. It could be a cat. Wait. What? Her cat was in foul mood? What the hell had the Brits sent him?

"Airman, you're dismissed," the General said, still staring at the conundrum before him. He didn't even see the youngster leave, just heard the click of the door as it shut behind him.

"Well," General Landry began, "welcome to Stargate Command. I… trust you have been debriefed on the situation?"

She smiled, looking decidedly out of place in this utilitarian setting in her Victorianesque blouse, waistcoat and wool skirt. "Yes, sir. Aliens and the lost city of Atlantis, was it? La! It's all very fascinating, especially when comparing the recorded mythos we have of Atlantis hear on Earth to what your scientists have discovered so far in the city itself."

He interlaced his fingers across his desk and slouched into them, relaxing and tensing at the same time in anticipation. "What can you offer our program?"

She picked some thread from her dress and idly played with it. "As you've been informed, I have my degrees, bachelor as well as Masters and PhDs in Chemistry and Applied Mathematics. I have a strong background in dead languages and runic symbols- it's quite amazing what one can learn in a Scottish boarding school. I have not been published due to some rather antiquated beliefs held around my area of research, and some of the research I would have liked to publish must remain classified at this time. I have passed all the necessary physical requirements given to the British government to work for this program and then some. I try to sty somewhat physically fit, though I don't look it at all."

The general didn't blink. "Why are you here?"

"Well," she began slowly, "I don't quite know. I needed to get away from England, Great Britain, and the rest of Europe for a bit, and the Prime Minister, who said he'd been impressed by my dissertations, offered me a job as a scientist. I cracked some codes and solved some chemistry equations the senior scientists had trouble with, and the next thing I know, they tell me I'm to be shipped off to another galaxy."

"Not exactly," Landry stated dryly.

Her lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners. "Then I can remain underfoot until I find a job here in America. I'd rather not deal with airports for a while, and getting my Visa was hassle enough," she said pragmatically.

"I presume you signed all your non-disclosure forms and other paperwork."

Hermione nodded.

"Well then, let's introduce you to the reason all this started, the Stargate."

The blinds covering the windows in the office pulled up mechanically, and she saw it. A giant ring, with unusual symbols carved in it, sat hooked up to machines of all sorts with a modern ramp leading from the center of the ring to the ground level.

It delighted her, seeing this structure in juxtaposition with all its modern surroundings. The sheer size of the ring, with its antiquated wear and roughness, combined with the elegance of a perfect circle made her feel more at home in this utilitarian atmosphere.

"It's a lovely piece of architecture," she said.

Generals Landry and O'Neill agreed. Then, they looked at each other, communicating in that way that men do, and General O'Neill said, "I need to get back to DC soon, so I think I'll make a round of the base, say my hellos, and then head back. I trust you can take it from here, General Landry?"

General Landry responded with a nod in the affirmitave, saying, "Yes, sir. If I don't see you before then, have a safe trip."

The two men saluted, shook hands, and left Hermione wondering how much of that conversation she missed with meaningful looks and hidden codes.

Once General O'Neill left, General Landry turned his attention completely to the young woman before him.

"We'll set you up in one of the guest rooms for now; Airman Lee will take your things. Airman Lee! Take our newest personnel member to the guest rooms."

The young man summoned gave a sharp salute, and moved to grab her things. Then, she followed him down the halls, further and further away from the sun to her new temporary home.

**Hermione's Bad Day**

Story: Up, Up, and Away  
Chapter: In Which Hermione Talks Back  
Author: Cathaign  
Disclaimer: I obviously hold no claim on these universes, and am making no money whatsoever by destroying them with my mind.  
Chapter Summary: Hermione meets Vala... sort of.

AN: Okay everyone, I understand that not everyone has the time or effort to review these, but please tell me what you did or didn't like! I only have twelve reviews for this, and several thousand hits. **Edit 1** Also, oh my god, epic fail on my part! Thank you RevDorothyL! After pointing out major flaws in this chapter, I realized why it's bad to write and post when I haven't slept in a few days. I completely mixed up character names... *headdesk*

***

Hermione's day did not start off well. She woke in her bunk, a cold, gray thing so unlike her comfortable bed back in England, and managed to hit her head on the unused top portion of it. While that began to swell as she searched her trunk for a bruise balm, Crookshanks decided he disliked American military rations, and expressed his displeasure on her shoes.

Then, after finally drawing her wand and blacking out whatever cameras may have been placed for surveillance, she _accioed_ the balm and performed a quick but thorough _evanesco_ on her shoes. Of course, once she finished, she dispelled the _confundus_ charm she had placed over the camera and surreptitiously hid her wand.

Several relatively minor setbacks later, like her hair in more disarray than usual, and she was out the door in her usual ensemble of skirt, blouse, waistcoat, and lab coat.

'I did feed Crookshanks this morning, didn't I? Yes, I did. I'm sure of that.'

Her gait, just shy of frantic from the moment she yanked open her door, stopped suddenly when she ran into a sturdy something or other while her mind ran through her mental checklist of her morning routine.

"You alright there, Dr. Granger? You look mighty frazzled," said the wall. Hermione looked up to see it was one of the airmen that usually helped her find her way around the underground base, a nice young man from Georgia with sun bleached hair, kind eyes, and a jaw line she didn't mind admiring.

"Yes, yes, just… feeling a bit knackered. The lack of sleep has finally caught up with me, I suppose," Hermione replied.

"I'll bet it has, Doctor. Look on the bright side- after tomorrow, you'll have clear skies and smooth sailing as it were on the Deadalus all the way to Atlantis."

Hermione chuckled. "Yes, after taking how long to convince not only General O'Neill, but also your Mu… American I.O.A , I think it was?"

The nice Georgian man, Jacob Lee was his name, smiled back at her and replied, "That's just because these northerners don't know how to act around a lady, questionin' all your learnin' like they did."

At that moment, when her morning had finally started to look a little brighter, disaster struck.

From around the corner, a woman wearing black and olive barreled right into Hermione Granger, knocking her flat on the floor.

From her prone position and through the pounding in her skull, Hermione could vaguely hear the shouts of, "Vala? What did you do?" and "Did you kill our scientist?". Everything went black shortly thereafter.

When she woke, she lay on an even more uncomfortable bed with scratchier sheets, and had something cold pressed against the back of her head. She opened her eyes slowly.

"Ugh... General O'Neill? Is something wrong?" she asked.

The general standing at the foot of her bed gave a slight jump. "Nope," he said, "just your run of the mill alien attache`s trying to kill scientists who've finally been approved for the Atlantis mission."

"She tried to kill me?" Hermione asked, "I thought she was just angry and not watching where she was going."

"Call it whatever you want, Granger. Apparently she was on her way to scold me. She thought the scientist en route tomorrow was Dr. Jackson."

Hermione nodded, then winced at the move. "I see."

The General leveled a look at her. "This random accidental injury thing better not be normal for you. They've got enough of those on Atlantis already."

"No sir, today seems to be an extraordinarily bad day."


	2. Chapter 5

Despite time spent in the infirmary with a mild concussion, thanks to intergalactic con-artist Vala Mal Doran, Hermione Granger still packed her tiny room up in time to board the Deadalus once her clearance became official.

The other personnel joining the Atlantis expedition consisted of an equal number of military personnel, scientists, and doctors, totaling thirty people in all. During orientation, General Landry had encouraged everyone to mingle outside of their own groups. He thought that inter-office relationships formed before hand would strengthen bonds and trust once the sojourners were stuck in the vastness of space fighting off life sucking space vampires.

Unfortunately, the scientists kept to themselves, as did the doctors and the members of the varying military branches. To Hermione, it seemed as though the country of origin did not act as a barrier nearly so much as the person's occupation.

She sighed wistfully. It reminded her of House rivalry at times. Yet again, she say on the outside of those rivalries. Back then, in what seemed a lifetime ago, she was too smart for most of the Gryffendors, certainly of those her own age, and too brave for Ravenclaw. Had she not made friends with Harry and Ron over a troll in the loo, she would have remained quite friendless through school. Here though, she had no Harry, no Ron. She didn't even have Snape looming over her, pushing her to think harder, work smarter. She had less medical training than the doctors, but more than the scientists. She didn't think only in the greater good. Rather, she tended to think about the individual in relation to the greater good. At the same time, she used to plan battles and guerilla warfare against a cloistered section of the Earth's government once it had been compromised by followers of a deranged psychopath hell bent on genocide. That was before she decided on studying anything in particular, still n the cusp on adulthood at seventeen. Her battle experience more closely resembled the special operations soldiers than any of the academics surrounding her.

_Hm,_ she thought, _the Deadalus is like taking the boats across the lake to Hogwarts for the first time. It certainly feels like the beginning of a new adventure_.

She shook her head and chuckled. She had no reason to reminisce as though her friends were dead. She could always take leave and visit. The general himself told her so.

Speakng of the general, she tuned in just in time to hear him begin to speak.

The older man who had treated her so candidly since her first appearance stepped up to the podium and said, "Today, you will join a groundbreaking expedition into the stars. Don't cause too much trouble, and do your countries proud."

He just jinxed us as well as an hex, Hermione thought with an internal giggle. Crookshanks meowed from his carrier. Hermione wasn't supposed to bring him, but just like on the plane, she cast a disillusionment charms as well as the "notice-me-not" for good measure. She had three years worth of cat supplies shrunken down and tucked away in her bottomless bag, too.

She went nowhere without Crookshanks. Crookshanks was all she had on this side of the continent; everyone else was… in England. She wondered if Severus had fallen to her nagging and opened and email account at Spinner's End. The magical interference was quite less than that of Hogwarts or any of the central Wizarding Hubs, being in a muggle neighborhood as it was, so theoretically, a computer would work. She hoped desperately that he caved. She needed to pick his brain about some of her latest theories, things she'd expanded upon since she's submitted her dissertations with her applications for Mastery in Potions and Arithmancy.

Somone bumped her shoulder, jolting her out of whatever funk she was in, and she realized she ignored most of the speech. She would have been embarrassed, but she spent all her focus on not getting run over. She shuffled with the throng of people and luggage to the designated "pickup" area, and waited for the beam that would take her up to the space ship hovering in Earth's orbit. The Deadalus. She was really doing this. She was really leaving Earth.

The beam, bright, but without temperature change, pulled her up to the hull of the ship with the twenty-nine other people shipping out. Her insides felt, momentarily, like they had been rearranged to suit some other purpose. It left her slightly nauseous.

The nauseousness abated as she and her fellows rematerialized in the hull of the iDeadalus/i. She pivoted, taking in her new surroundings with an attention to detail that rivaled an art expert authenticating a priceless work.

The walls were very... gray. So was everything else, for that matter. Hermione took a deep breath. This whole "no color" thing would take some getting used to. Apparently, she'd even have a uniform to wear on the expedition. That had never been a requirement while on base at the SGC.

Despite her excitement in joining this expedition, she had her misgivings about her lack of identity in this system.

Something tapped her shoulder, and she whipped around, reaching for a wand holster she hadn't worn. Her assailant had his hands raised in the universal symbol of surrender.

"Sorry about that, Doctor. I'm in charge of all the academics on this ship, Lieutenant Andrew Martin."

Hermione let out the breath she didn't know she was holding. "Oh," she said, "sorry, I was lost in thought. It happens from time to time," she finished, smiling apologetically.

"No harm done, Ma'am. I'm just taking you to your quarters, and then we'll get a full tour of the ship," the Lieutenant replied.

She motioned for him to lead on, and she turned and grabbed her things. Then, she followed him through the corridors of the alien ship.

Once in the guest quarters, Hermione unpacked her toiletries and a few changes of clothes, and then let Crookshanks out and set up a small area for him, magically sealed so he wouldn't be able to escape and terrorize the crew. She ran her hand through her hair. She had not been so secluded from the world since her Seventh Year.

The difference was that this time, she wasn't really running from anything. Well, she was, but no one had a price on her head in this situation. She didn't trust her team in this situation either. Before, she knew Harry and Ron. She knew their habits and their world views. She knew how they'd react and how to talk to them in different situations. The had all understood each other's codes.

Here though, she had no idea how her new teams would react to her style of discourse. She couldn't count on them to understand why she did some of the things she was bound to do. They hadn't been stuck, paralyzed, turned into part cat, at just twelve. They hadn't been there when the Death Eaters attacked them, overthrew the government, and issued a warrant for her death just as she'd reached the age of majority because she had less pure blood than those in power.

In all honesty, Hermione was shocked she'd passed the psychological evaluations required to get a position in Atlantis. Granted, most of her school days had been sealed by the Unspeakables, but that certainly never abated the trauma and suffering.

She only hoped that this new adventure would help her step away from the situation, and maybe, just maybe, begin to heal.


	3. Three Weeks

Hermione couldn't decide whether or not to unpack some of her belongings. On one hand, it would make things more accessible for the duration of her trip. On the other, she didn't know if she wanted to spend a whole day repacking to disembark.

She eyed her luggage with thinly veiled disdain.

"Mrow?"

Hermione turned and glanced around, searching for the large orange source of the noise. She did not see him at first, so she ducked down on her hands and knees and peered under the small, utilitarian bed. There sat her cat, eyes narrowed. He had every right to be angry with her. She'd just packed him up and carted him off without so much as a "by your leave". He had no scratching post! The travesty!

Hermione chuckled at the projections she received from her angry familiar. Sometimes, the war brought about positive changes. This was one of them. After testing one too many potions on herself to increase telepathy and to block legimency, she and Crookshanks had developed a link. She didn't get many concrete thoughts, but on occasion he projected things quite strongly, mostly when something perturbed him.

"Don't you worry, Crooks. It's only for a few weeks. Once we get to Atlantis, I'll see about setting you up a larger play area. You won't be able to run about like you did at home, but I hear the rooms there aren't quite the prison cells they are here and at the SGC."

Crookshanks sniffed and turned his nose up and away from her. He radiated annoyance and disgust.

"Well, fine. Be that way. I've set up your cat box in the corner behind the foot of the bed, and I pulled out your toys, should you decide to deign them with your presence, Your Highness."

Hermione released a laughing breath, and turned to her own dilemma once again. To unpack or not? That is the question. She opened her trunk and searched meticulously through the various shrunken items, replacing each one in the exact spot she moved it from. "Don't need that yet, nope. Nope. No... Possibly? Maybe. No. No. Uh-uh..."

Exactly ten minutes and twenty seconds later (she always had the exact time in her head anymore, thanks to Moody's lessons in constant vigilance) she had decided she needed to un-shrink her toiletries, a week's worth of undergarments, and a week's worth of shirts. She only needed three pair of jeans and one pair of slacks, and she remembered at the last moment to un-shrink her pajamas.

Once she had returned the items to their natural size, she folded them neatly, as neatly as possible so that if they were moved, she would know. She shook her head after she finished. Her goal of ridding herself of some of her paranoia was not progressing to her liking.

She took the folded clothes and lay them in the small stack of drawers provided in the bunk. Just as she finished, someone knocked loudly at her door.

She jumped.

"Oh, just a moment!" she called out. She checked the room, and seeing her trunk open and exposed to all the world, closed the lid quickly and engaged the lock. Then she glared at Crookshanks, who had decided to curl up on the pillow while her back had been turned. "Crooks..." she whispered, "hide!"

He looked vaguely insulted, but did as he was told and scurried under the bed with a dexterity not normally seen in an animal of his size.

Hermione looked around again quickly. Nothing out of place. "Who is it?" she asked as she made her way to the door.

"It's Doctor Baker. I wanted to see if you'd like to join some of us in the galley for an early dinner," came the muffled voice of a baritone through the door.

Hermione opened the door carefully, standing slightly behind it. When no one tried to attack her, she peered her head around the corner. "That would be lovely. Just give me a moment to finish putting some things away?"

Doctor Baker chuckled. "You have problems figuring out what to unpack too?"

Hermione gave a strangled laugh. "It's such a difficult decision! And I had to pack accordingly, because I refuse to wear one of those hideous uniforms while in my own office. If I go out in the field, I am more than happy to accommodate the military personnel, but I will be comfortable in my own domain."

Her companion laughed again, nodding his head in agreement. "I completely understand. The uniforms aren't flattering at all. I feel unprofessional wearing one. Give me scrubs or a suit and a lab coat, and that'll be my uniform."

Hermione glanced up at him. Doctor Thaddius Baker was a tall man, towering over most of his colleagues, and thin, as though he didn't eat enough. It was probably true. He spent the majority of his time at the SGC patching teams up and sending them back out into the field, even though his specialty was allergens and toxins.

A widower, Doctor Baker had adopted all of the younger scientists as his children. He made sure they fed themselves and remembered to sleep on occasion.

He reminded Hermione a bit of Remus, that way. His sadness tinged all his expressions, but he lived each day to the fullest, like the Weasleys were wont to do. Walking down the corridor with him, Hermione felt safer than she had in quite some time, as though she were wrapped up in her father's voice telling her bedtime stories, even though Baker's pontification expressed desires to study and learn. The tone was similar, and she reveled in it for the short time (three minutes, twelve seconds) she had before joining the throng of people in the galley.

Dinner was pleasant. Hermione and Doctor Baker were joined by four other scientists and doctors, and they spoke of hopes and hypotheses of undiscovered wonders. It was nice, Hermione decided, to be able to speak with intellectual peers. Even if they hadn't grown up with her, seen the same horrors and built that camaraderie, there was something to be said about being only one of the smartest people in the room, instead of the smartest person. She could learn to love these people like family.

After a long dinner and discussion, cut short only by the crew members kicking them out, they parted ways.

They promised to meet again for dinner the next night to continue discussions, and Hermione felt like she could at least pretend to fit in.

That night, she slept soundly, with Crookshanks curled up in the nook of her legs and stomach, in the pajamas Mrs. Weasley had monogrammed for her before she left.

That became her evening routine. She would meet the small group of intellectuals for dinner, where they would eat and talk and argue, and then she would sleep soundly. During the day, she woke early. Well, relatively. It became hard to differentiate day and night when one could not see the sun.

Her clock said five am when she opened her eyes each day. She'd squint, roll out of bed, sometimes squishing Crookshanks and sometimes not, and stumble to her drawers. From there, she would pull out her toiletries- dry shampoo, baby wipes, face towlettes, toothbrush, and toothpaste, and prepare for another day.

Once she had her hair managed and somewhat presentable, she dressed in one of the pairs of jeans, a t-shirt, and a pullover, and slipped her feet into her boots. Ugly as they were, those boots had seen her through hard times. And it's not like she was trying to impress anyone just yet.

By the time the digital clocks struck six, she had fed her cat and was ready to head out the door. From six until noon, she explored.

She met Hermiod, spoke amiably with most of the crew, though there was that one from the engine room who had taken exception to her meanderings and yelled at her, and learned the best way she knew how. She watched. She memorized each movement that each person on the ship made. She knew that Lieutenant Michaels had a crush on one of the botanists, one Lucy Drover, and his subtle attempts at flirting went unnoticed by the oblivious scientist.

She knew that the crew had a synchronization that only came from years of close interaction. That's why, two weeks into the voyage, she noticed something odd. One of the crew members, someone wearing signifiers that he worked in the engine room, was off. It was nothing overt, just that the rhythm of the crew became slightly disjointed.

The only way she could explain it was that his timing was... off.

She took her concerns to the crew's medic.

"Excuse me, but I think there's something wrong with one of your engineers," she told him frankly.

The medic scoffed at her. "Really, like you'd know?"

Hermione simply stared back at him and said, "I know that I've only been here two weeks, but I can tell that the rhythm of the crew has been offset this week. It started two days ago. The 'patient zero', as it were, it one of the engineers. I believe his name it Thomlin. He's not performing to his usual standard for some reason, and it throws the rest of the system off kilter."

During her short speech, the medic had gone from completely disbelieving to mildly shocked to concerned. "And are you sure it's Thomlin?"

Hermione nodded.

The medic licked his lips and nodded to himself as he tapped away on the keyboard. "Thank you, Doctor Granger.

"I just hope he's alright," Hermione said.

The next day, Thomlin came up to her. "Doctor Granger?"

Hermione turned around from the middle of her daily jaunt, startled. "Yes?"

Thomlin scratched the back of his head bashfully and said, "The Doc said I have you to thank for realizing there was something weird going on. Turns out, he needed to change some of my diet supplements. They weren't digesting right. I knew something was funny, but I brushed it off. He said if the problem hadn't been spotted, things coulda been bad."

Hermione gave him a smile. "It was no problem. I'm just glad everything turned out well."

"Do ya wanna see the engine room? Full dollar tour? I know Joe's been a jerk about it, but if you have an escort, you'll be fine."

Hermione smiled more genuinely. "That would be lovely. As long as you feel up to it, though."

"Ah, don't worry about it. The Doc's got me all fixed up."

That was how Hermione learned the intricacies of the Asgard engineering system.

They toured the engine rooms thoroughly, twisting in and out of wires and cables, passing by alien metal and computation devices.

"So tell me," Hermione asked as they continued their trek, "How did you get involved with the Stargate Program?"

"Well, I was in the Air Force, working as a mechanic, when one of my tinkerings pinged on the Stargate radar. Apparently, I'm too smart for my own good. They brought me in and trained me up on alien tech, and I ended up helping develop one of the translation systems for the ship's controls. Then Hermiod and I got to talking, and I learned even more. He taught me how to patch most of the ship. He directs me and I do all the heavy lifting." He grinned. "What about you?"

"I graduated university and fulfilled my apprenticeship requirements, and then the county I had grown up in decided they would limit what jobs I could take. Apparently, I was also too smart for my own good. While in secondary school, some friends and I exposed a large number of corrupt government leaders in our county, and the leaders who replaced them did not like the idea of all of us gaining positions of power without their influence. So, I published my research in other counties and with major international journals. The PM decided I would be useful to the project, and offered me a job doing something I enjoyed. I leaped at the chance. That's all there is, really."

"I'm sure there's more."

Hermione felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"No, not really," she said.

She looked at him, really looked at him, using all the sensory abilities she had developed, and saw the shadow underneath his skin. There was something under the surface, something dangerous.

And she had nowhere to go.

She cautiously scanned her surroundings, keeping eye on the unveiled threat in front of her.

She could go iup/i.

Thomlin, or rather, the thing possessing the young man, lunged at her, snarling.

She reacted.

Hermione ducked down low, allowing him to fly by her and lose his balance. Then, as he scrambled and charged again, she swept one of her tucked legs out and knocked him to the ground. He hit his head on a protruding piece of metal. The sound alerted the other engineers, bringing them in a descending swarm upon her.

It must have been quite a sight, Thomlin laying prone across delicate equipment and she sprawled on the floor, a small gash on her cheek from where his nail clipped her.

Twenty minutes and thirteen seconds later, she found herself in front of the Colonel, awaiting a dressing down of the highest degree.

It didn't come. Instead, the Colonel informed her that she found an infiltration they had been trying to pinpoint for months. Then, he apologized for using her as bait. Had she not handled him so quickly, the crew would have descended on the two of them armed and ready to fight.

To all this, Hermione replied, "Then it's a good thing self defense was required in my school, because I doubt I would have come out so cleanly without it."

She was dismissed, and she went to stew in her room.

The puzzle pieces fell together that night after dinner. The medic's reaction, the inability to digest the nutrient supplements. They all fit.

"Well Crooks," she whispered, "at least I'm being useful."

The next day, instead of exploring, she meticulously packed her things, unpacked them, and repacked them several times to waste the hours.

Dinner rolled around, but instead of going to the mess, Doctor Baker and her new friends arrived at her door with food in tow. They found out about Crookshanks (he came out to beg for scraps), but laughed and claimed that anyone who managed to sneak a cat onto a spaceship deserved to keep it.

Hermione slept fitfully, but somewhat secure in her knowledge that she had made friends.

They were called to the observation deck shortly after she awoke, and they saw the beauty that was Atlantis through the glass, a shining jewel of a city floating in the endless ocean.


	4. Chapter 7: Atlantis Arrival

Title: Up Up and Away

Chapter: 7/? Atlantis Arrival

Author: Cathaign

Chapter Summary: The arrival! Finally!

Disclaimer: This is a fan work and is completely non-profit. HP belongs to J.K. Rowling and Stargate belongs to SyFy and a slew of producers, writers, and directors.

The city shone like a beacon from her view in the space ship orbiting above, a cluster of crystalline spires rising above the waves to greet weary travelers. Hermione sighed, somewhat nostalgic at the scene. 'Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy warty Hogwarts, teach us something please,' she began to sing in her head. A smile pulled at the corners of her lips. However much nostalgia she felt, she also felt a small sense of disenchantment following the sting operation she had unwittingly participated in. The callous use of people aboard the Daedalus felt all too familiar.

The smile fell fully when she realized she needed to remove all evidence of her familiar from the cabin and get him in his kennel. She turned as quickly as she dared, packed as tightly as the crew and passengers were for the sight of Atlantis. She jarred a few of the medical doctors, apologizing as they glared, and began to shuffle through the throng of people back to the cabins.

Once safely inside her temporary housing, she pulled out her wand. She didn't really want to, but she figured she was far enough away from Earth that no one would detect her, and she really needed to get this mess cleaned up. Crookshanks hissed from his perch on the end of the small twin bed.

"Oh, come off it! It's not that long that you'll be confined this time. I just need to get you in to the city unnoticed. Hopefully, by the time they realize you're here, it will be too late to send you back."

He made no noise, but he glared something fierce.

Hermione crouched down to his eye level and whispered, "Crooks, you're all I have here. It's just you and me. If they caught you, and I were on my own, I don't think I could bear it." He stared balefully at his mistress, so she switched tactics.

"Come on, we've been through so much together! It's just another adventure- but we'll fail if you're caught. Please get in the kennel? Just until we move to more permanent quarters?"

Crookshanks glared again, and sniffed haughtily, but slowly unrolled from his curled position and stretched before plodding over to the cat carrier. He turned to look at Hermione over his shoulder. _You owe me._

Hermione nodded and said, "Yes, I owe you. That's why I brought several years' worth of tuna and cat food in the bag."

With that, Crookshanks entered the cat carrier as though he were walking to his death sentence, and resignedly let Hermione close the face of the kennel.

With all evidence of his royal highness erased from the bunk, Hermione made her way with her luggage back to the main deck.

An hour later, she found herself waiting amongst her peers in the main cargo hold while the commander verified… things… with the crew manning the city. They remained fairly quiet, tired from a distinct lack of sunlight and fresh food. It took most of their strength to remain upright with their luggage.

"Ladies, Gentlemen," said Colonel Caldwell over the low hum of voices and shifting suitcases. The hum dissipated, and the group looked to their host. "We have begun our descent to Atlantis. We will dock in the next half hour. Make sure you are full packed. At fifteen minutes, everyone must strap into the designated landing zones. That is all." He nodded, reinforcing the end of his speech.

About half the scientists, the ones with half-done ties, flyaway hair, and dark smudges on clothing, scurried into action to check their belongings. Hermione knew she wouldn't need to check her things. She had packed as meticulously as she did everything else in her life, bar chasing after Harry and Ron. Crookshanks scowled at her from his spell-ensconced carrier as one of the harried men bumped into Hermione's luggage pile. Hermione ignored the look in favor of smoothing her waistcoat and slacks, both tailored with secret pockets to hold her wand and other necessities without any of the muggles noticing. After reassuring that everything was where it needed to be, she straightened her shirtsleeves and smoothed a hand quickly over her hair, barely confined by the chignon she'd hastily thrown it into. She had several escaped strands, but she could do little other than attempt to tuck them under other, more well behaved sections of hair.

The ship lurched, signaling its descent and the warning for passengers to buckle up. The scientists and doctors moved with their cargo and locked it into heavy restraints, and then moved to the seats lining each side of the cargo hold, where they strapped themselves in.

Hermione didn't see how efficiently the soldiers moved, as most of them avoided actually interacting with the scientists at all costs and remained on the opposite side of the bay. However, the rustling and echoes thereof soon stopped, and the shipped descended faster into the atmosphere.

Hermione gripped the cold metal armrest tightly, turning her knuckles white during the entire downward trip. She'd never liked flying of any kind because of turbulence, and reentering the atmosphere consisted solely of that awful phenomenon. One of her fellows patted her hand and murmured something that was supposed to be reassuring, but she didn't register it. She could feel the blood draining from her face as the descent began to feel faster thanks to the increasing air resistance. She screwed her eyes shut.

Finally_, finally_ they landed with only a minor jolt. Hermione opened one eye, scanned her surroundings, and once she deemed it safe, opened the other. Then she set to work prying her fingers off the arms rests. By the time she finished unfastening her safety harness and her luggage, more than half the people had disembarked. She quickly grabbed her belongings and dragged them out of the hull with the rest of her fellows. _Why couldn't they just beam us down like they beamed us up on Earth? Is there some sort of immediate threat that prevents such measures_, she thought.

The throng of people slowly waned as they settled and took a moment to examine their new surroundings. Hermione's eyes widened. The monochromatic color scheme she had expected to find so dull, thanks to pre-expedition research and quite a bit of time locked away in a similarly themed mountain base, added a majestic alien-ness to the building instead. Granted, most of her compatriots had far longer to acclimate to singular color palates than she did. They all grew up in the institutionalized, industrialized surroundings of the Muggle world. Hermione found such ideas fascinating because her formative and adolescent years had been spent so differently. The lack of moving pictures, masonry, and eccentrically bright swatches of color thrown randomly about jarred her. Once she got past yet another layer of differences, she scanned the room and canvassed all possible exits and their quickest escape routes. She heard a disfigured old Auror yelling in the back of her mind, _"Constant vigilance!"_ as she did so.

After locating the most feasible of those escape routes, Hermione studied her new colleagues and neighbors who had come to greet them. What she saw did not surprise her. The sea of gray drab speckled with shoulder patches made her wince slightly. _Merlin,_ she thought,_ I really hate those uniforms._

Only three of the welcoming committee forwent the uniforms. Hermione automatically recognized one, a brunette in red, as Doctor Elizabeth Weir, the head of the expedition. The other two did not strike her as familiar. They wore rough, durable fabrics, possibly a Pegasus Galaxy cotton or linen from what little she could see of its texture as far away as she was, paired with well stitched leather. They created as stark contrast between themselves and Doctor Weir, who contrasted well enough with the people she led in slacks and a soft sweater.

Hermione remembered a note in one of the files about Pegasus Galaxy Natives at Atlantis. One had been there longer than the other, that much she knew, but the file she may or may not have been allowed to read didn't include pictures. She assumed the two not in uniform were the Pegasus natives.

Colonel Caldwell stepped forward and began conversing in low tones with Doctor Weir. The expedition leader's expression lowly transformed from cautiously pleasant to a subtle frown. Hermione couldn't see the colonel's mouth, but from the body language she observed, she assumed they didn't necessarily get along or agree on many things. _Possibly a command issue_, Hermione thought, _maybe stemming from a conflict of interest_? She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Sometimes, she wished she could turn off her brain like a normal person.

The colonel and doctor finished their conversation, and Doctor Weir pasted a smile on her face.

"I'd like to be the first to welcome you to Atlantis," she said. "I speak for all of us when I say we are grateful to each and e very one of you for volunteering for this assignment, and we look forward to your contributions."

One of the Atlantis members scoffed. Hermione quickly scanned the people standing on the opposite side of the large room. Though the culprit made no more noises of protestation, Hermione quickly discerned who made the sound. _There, wearing the uniform with the Canadian patch. Stocky. Defensive posture._ She scanned her brain as the quick analysis sparked something familiar. She'd read something that matched her observations somewhere… Something clicked. _Doctor Rodney McKay- often brilliant but difficult to work with. Well, this will be like my Mastery all over again. Maybe it will be easier this time. McKay at least doesn't have a decade of material to pull ridicule from like Severus did._

Hermione refocused on Doctor Weir just in time to hear the registration procedures for the earwigs and tablets Hermione saw people holding. Apparently, those tablets contained a map of the city, and the earwigs acted as locaters as well as communication devices. Hermione grinned slightly as thoughts of a certain illicit artifact from her youth popped into her head. She wondered if she could modify her pad to insult people trying to access it without the right password. That was something to look into.

The throng began to move, and Hermione found herself carting her luggage along next to Doctor Baker.

"Exciting, isn't it? We leave Earth and travel on a space ship. The space ship accommodations are similar to that of a cheap ticket on a cruise. We arrive in another galaxy, and we have to wait in line as though we were in an airport," the doctor said chuckling.

Hermione laughed and replied, "It is a bit surreal, I'll grant you. However, I will say that because we have been removed from our natural habitat, we cling to every bit of habitual normalcy we can."

Doctor Baker smiled at her, and she smiled back.

The line inched forward.

Finally, Hermione reached the front of the line, where she smiled at the young woman handing her all the necessary credentials and technology. The woman smiled in return and directed her to the gaggle of scientists and newcomers in a corner of the room.

"They'll help you set everything up and show you how to use some of the programs," she said.

Hermione waved her thanks and repositioned her belongings. Crookshanks voiced his displeasure with a low growl. Under her breath, Hermione said, "Hang on, just a bit longer."

She reached the group of chaos and looked around for someone to help her out. The only person available was the scoffer, the one she assumed was Rodney McKay. Each new piece of evidence she gathered supported her hypothesis. Gathering her courage, she walked up to him and smiled congenially.

"Doctor McKay, I presume?" she asked.

"I don't help with menial tasks like explaining how to use computers to those less competent than me," he said shortly.

Hermione's smile took on a slight edge at the insult, reigned in only because she knew he had never heard of her or her plight in the Wizarding world.

"I know you feel like you shouldn't have to help us plebeians gather our wits, but without showing us how to use the interface you've created, you hinder our ability to contribute. At that point, we're wasting your air, your food, and your time all the time. So, just show me how to run it and I'll get out of your hair," she replied.

Doctor McKay narrowed his eyes momentarily, and snatched the tablet off the top of her luggage. Hermione saw the small tower start to teeter, and grabbed Crookshanks' disguised kennel before he could let out an undignified caterwaul.

She glared at the oblivious scientist. Once she righted her belongings, she leaned over to look at the tablet. Doctor McKay leaned away. "Okay," he began, "this is your main screen. If you click this icon here," he said as he tapped a red square, "you access the map."

He tapped it again and reduced the screen before tapping a green icon and pulling up another screen. "This one is diagnostics. You probably won't understand anything on here, so just… don't touch it."

Hermione raised her eyebrow and gave him an incredulous look. "You mean complicated concepts like the ZPM is at half power and whatever experiments you have running in the lower quadrant take more power than running all the other systems in the city combined?"

The Canadian glared at Hermione before continuing without acknowledging her comment. "The blue icon is how you submit all your reports."

"Ooh, an intranet email system? How complicated."

"You're annoying," Doctor McKay said.

Hermione looked directly at him. "Listen," she said, "I don't care how you treat everyone else, but I'm supposed to work with you. You can make all the snarky comments you'd like, and you can call me annoying as many times as you want, but I'll give as good as I get. You cannot act as though I'm completely incompetent when I know you've never once reviewed my work."

"And how would you know that I've never reviewed your work?"

"I'm British, I'd recognize your snark, and you haven't looked at my name tag or asked my name. You have no idea who I am, and therefore cannot judge my competency."

"Fine," he said as he held out his free hand, grimacing as though this would cause bodily harm. "I'm Doctor Rodney McKay. I'm the best scientist here."

Hermione took his hand and shook it. "How do you do, Doctor McKay? I'm Professor Hermione Granger, and I beg to differ. I'm the brightest mind you'll meet."

He laughed loudly, startling his colleagues. "Do you really want to compete with me?"

Hermione smirked. "Absolutely. Now, if you'll just direct me to my rooms so I may unpack my things, I'll grab my research notes and we'll get started."

"How in the heck did you get two rooms?"

"My chemistry work needs as few variables as possible, as I'll be testing native plants for their chemical composition and comparing them to samples from Earth. I want to duplicate medicines from viable resources here so we don't end up relying solely on Ancient technology."

Rodney McKay stopped and looked at her. Then he turned to his colleagues and asked, "Why didn't anyone think of this before?"

"Think of what?" asked one of the female scientists.

Doctor McKay glared and said, "Why didn't any of our scientists here bother to think of comparing this galaxy's plants and resources to the ones we ship in and seeing whether we could use them or not?"

Several scientists looked at each other. An Irish voice spoke up. "We have botanists and bioogists, but we've all been too busy practicing emergency medicine to try and run experiments like that. That's why we brought in Professor Granger."

"Seriously, Beckett? Why was I not informed that we were considering this?" yelled Rodney.

The Irishman identified as Beckett responded, "You got the list of scientists just like everyone else. Next time, try reading it."

Yet another voice rang out above the crowd, laughing. Hermione turned her head to locate the source. A good-looking U.S. Air Force pilot had come to stand by Doctor Weir. She couldn't determine his rank from this far away, but she recognized the insignia. His demeanor reminded Hermione a bit of Harry, wary but congenial.

"Beckett's got a point there, Rodney. Even I got the memo," the man said.

"Oh, shut up, Shepherd. I doubt you read through more than I did," Rodney snapped. Despite the tone he'd taken, Doctor McKay seemed to enjoy the banter.

Hermione noted that he was even more like Severus than she'd originally thought, even though he lacked the dramatic presence Severus had commanded so easily in the classroom. _Of course,_ Hermione thought, _Doctor McKay has the distinct disadvantage in that he has no robes to billow about when he enters a room_.

The man, Shepherd, shrugged and nodded in acquiescence.

That seemed to be the end of the conversation, as Rodney had nothing left to say. Seemingly flustered, he spun around to face Hermione. "Well? Come on."

Hermione chuckled slightly and grabbed her trolley, then grabbed her tablet from the head scientist. "Lead the way, Doctor."

They walked briskly, and Hermione thought the good Doctor McKay knew no other speed. She used those observational skills instilled in her during the war to make a mental map of the route. She charted each hallway, each marker, and each turn. She'd apply the route to the map later to find her way around the rest of Atlantis. The only issue she had with the pace the man in front of her had set was that poor Crookshanks was being rattled about. He growled at her. Hermione glanced at Doctor McKay, but he apparently hadn't heard. He didn't turn around, at least.

They finally arrived at a grey door.

"Feel free to personalize it. You'll be here a while," Doctor McKay said. He stood awkwardly to the side of the door while she used the key given to her to unlock it.

Once she had the door open, she turned to him and said, "Thank you, Doctor McKay. You've been most helpful. When does the mess start serving dinner?"

"Err, about seventeen hundred hours? I'm not sure. Sometimes I stay and work, you see, in the labs."

"Well, I hope you make it to dinner. I know several of the scientists I travelled with would like an introduction."

"Yeah. I'll see if I can make it." With that, Doctor McKay turned and left.

Hermione shook her head and dragged her trolley inside. Once she had the door firmly locked, she whipped out her wand and began unpacking.

It was almost seventeen hundred hours when she felt like she could take a break.


End file.
